Call Me, Call Me
by Mina3
Summary: Because loyalty and faith are never completely blind. Early Orphen/Majic


**Call Me, Call Me**  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Majutsushi Orphen_ apply. Really, if I made money from writing fan fics, I wouldn't be so far in debt and I'd be able to pay for university without taking out more loans. 

Warnings: Oh, a bit of language, and some shounen ai-esque moments. Also, this will probably make more sense if you've read the first story, _In Darkness He Cried_. Sorry, I'm not above plugging my own fics to get more readership. I'm greedy that way. ^_^ 

**A/N:** Dedicated to D-chan, who made me love Majic even more (which I hadn't thought possible). Majic-introspection, just for you! 

**A/NII:** As far as the timeline goes, I've kind of stretched out the amount of time that "occurs" between episodes two and three. The way I see it, a creature of the magic magnitude of the Bloody August would probably play hell with the local ley lines as well as the local weather. Plus, leaving Totokanta, a town that Majic spent his whole life in, would be a Big Deal. Why would he follow Orphen without question after the Bloody August? 

* * *

Rain. After nearly a week, it was still pouring rain.  
    And he _hated_ it.     Huddled beneath sodden tree branches, oilskin drawn over his head and hunched shoulders, Majic stared down at the lake, watching the unending droplets make a mad dance of interspersing ripples on the normally mirror-like surface. It was depressing to see his place of solitude so disturbed by frenetic activity, especially by something as capricious and uncaring as the weather. Had he the power, he would have made it all stop, would have banished the clouds and moisture, would have drawn the sun forth from its hiding spot to shine once again, to warm him once again.     He shivered, dropping his eyes to his knees, where white-knuckled hands gripped his trousers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been warm, the last time he'd felt the sympathetic energy soaking through skin and muscle, embracing his soul in a gentle cradle that felt like…like…     Like home.     His head snapped up at the sound of a mournful keen, rolling like the faint mist across the lake to his ears. Pushing the oilskin back and letting the cool moisture begin to saturate his hair, Majic tried to peer through the wet and gloom for the origin of the cry.     It came again after a moment, slightly louder, less mournful. He smiled, absently reaching up to fling water from his bangs, which had begun to drift into his eyes. "Call me, call me…" he murmured without knowing why, tipping his head to the side.     Again the call came, Majic slowly rising to his feet, oilskin slipping completely from his body to fall haphazardly and forgotten to the ground. He pushed branches aside without thought, ignoring the cold that permeated him to the core, the bite of rough branches that snagged his skin and clothes and hair, the rocks as he slid and stumbled down to the beach… He ignored it all until he'd reached the sand-and-pebble shore, boots sinking with a wet, sucking sound. "Call me, call me…"     As he shifted from foot to foot in an eerie parody of a serpent's hypnotic sway, Majic realised that it was no longer a keen; it was a song…a haunting song, a familiar song.     A glint in the sand caught his eye, momentarily pulling him from the siren's song. Glancing down, he was surprised to find a number of furrows dug into the sand-furrows that seemed to have a very methodical, very purposeful appearance. Once again paying no heed to the wet, Majic sank to his knees beside the marks, carefully using a fingertip to remove the water that had filled in the grooves, sitting back after a moment to survey his work. After a few moments of staring incomprehensibly, he realised that he was looking at the writing-at the runes-from the wrong angle, and changed his position so that he was now facing the hill he'd come down from, back to the water.     Lips moving with no sound escaping, eyes widening in disbelief, Majic didn't even notice that the wind had picked up. Whitecaps now stirred the lake's surface into a tumult of peaked anger, lapping over his boots and trousers, doing a better job of soaking him then the rain.     He couldn't read the runes, but he knew what they were: sorceri runes, the incantation language of the ancient Dragons, the six clans who had built the foundations of sorcery, who had shared their blood and teachings with humans. And though he didn't know what it said, he recognised the basic structure, recognised the sealing ward beneath and the runes for the elements and the cardinal points. Orphen hadn't been the most active of teachers so far, but he'd allowed Majic to view some of the precious books he'd brought with him from the Tower of Fangs. And thanks to one of those slim volumes-a book on elemental, physical-based incantations-he knew that he was staring at the rudimentary form of a Summoning.     The song became laughter…sunlight…warmth…pure, unadulterated joy. Majic twisted, falling back on his hands and elbows, marring the runes as his eyes darted about wildly. "Who's there?"     "Majic… Majic…"     True, it was a soft sound, one that shouldn't have been able to carry over the howling of the wind. His hair lashed his face, his eyes, and he brushed it away with damp and sandy fingers, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Despite the evidence otherwise, someone out there knew who he was…and was calling his name.     "Majic…" The laugh came again and he shivered, but not because of the cold; cold and wet had faded into the background when his invisible companion had captured his attention. "Call me… Call me…"     Golden eyebrows drew together, lips pinching into a taut line. "Call you? But I don't even know you!" His voice wavered like the pine boughs in the wind, quavering because of an unseen force that was more powerful than he could comprehend.     When the voice replied, it was chastising-and a bit disappointed. "Oh, Majic…"     He was frightened now, a corner of his mind sharply berating him for disappearing the middle of the night without a word to his father or to his new master. Of all the days to come down to the lake, right after the Bloody August's frightening appearance, the destruction of the Everlasting's house, the apparent anguish caused to Orphen by the reappearance of his old classmate, the interference of his old teacher, and the sight of the Bloody August herself and all that she symbolised… He had known as he'd slipped from the inn, under the cover of his black oilskin, to ghost through the trees to the lonely lakeshore, that magic was rampant tonight. It saturated the air like the rain did the ground, thick and nearly tangible, leaving a taste in the back of his mouth that was like bitter metal coated with an addicting cover of dream-smoke and sugar.     He was numb from the cold, a corner of his mind noted, and as he drew his hand up to brush his hair away from his eyes once again, he noticed that his skin had taken on a blue tone. This was-most _definitely_-not one of his better ideas…     "Majic!"     Whipping around, sinking, skidding as he tried to stand, swaying like the trees on the ridgeline, Majic peered through the pelting rain for the owner of the voice, so different from the light, ethereal voice of moments before. In fact, it sounded very familiar.     "Call me…" The words slipped from his lips like a prayer, breathed with warm intentions, dissipating into the cold. He shivered, feeling the sting of water-soaked clothes chaffing against his skin as his legs trembled with both the temperature and effort of trying to keep his balance.     "Majic…"     Eyes widening, hair on the back of his neck standing on end, Majic swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and slowly turned; her voice had been much, much closer this time. He was facing the lake again, but the fog had cleared, and in the faint light, through the rain drizzle, he could finally make out a solitary form.     Her long, wheat-gold hair tumbled about her like a living cloak, waves seemingly undisturbed by the wet. Pale skin with bird-bone fluttering hands, one held forward in askance. Wide aqua eyes-as clear as though she were standing mere feet away-flecked with hints of green and gold, wells of pleading, endless pupil. Coral lips, dewed with rain, forming the syllables of his name.     "Majic… My Majic… Call me…"     "No, Majic!"     There was a reedy keen riding the air-and after a moment, eyes pressed shut, hands clasped tightly over his ears, Majic realised that the sound had come from him. This was confusing, so very, very confusing…because he felt as though he should know her.     Cautiously he opened one eye and peered in front of him; the woman was still there. She was sad, eyes fallen at the corners, lips trembling. Her hands were clutched together against her chest, the stark black and blue of her robes making her all the more ethereal. "Oh, Majic…" Again she held forth her hand, again she beckoned him forward, and this time…this time he felt his feet moving without thought and before he knew it, he was knee-deep in the water, his own had stretched out before him.     "Call me," she whispered again. "Call me!"     "Call you?" He struggled, trying to wrap the concept through his muddled brain. "Call…you… I-"     _"Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin!"_     His head snapped up as the light blade whipped over his head towards the woman. She smiled, disappearing with a wave of her hand and a whispered incantation just as the attack reached her. Majic, stunned, turned to find Orphen slipping down the hillside, his expression pale as though he were frightened.     To Majic, though, it also looked murderous.     Mouth working to find words of explanation, he suddenly felt tired, what little energy had remained through the cold and wet leaving with a shiver. He smiled ruefully, struggling to try and reach the shore of the lake. His master was going to be very, very angry with him…     But then everything was light and darkness at once, the wind rushing past his ears with a deafening roar even as the water rushed forward to greet him and cushion his fall. 

* * *

The first thing that clearly registered was pain.  
    Wincing and biting back a moan, Majic struggled to sit up, reaching for his forehead as if the pressure of a hand could keep his head from splitting open.     "And just _what_ did you think you were doing last night?"     The moan became a whimper at the whip-crack question, his eyelids held as tightly shut as possible; this way he could avoid letting in unnecessary light, as well as block out the thundercloud expression of his master. "Could you please not yell at me, Oshou-sama?" he asked in a whisper, placing his other hand on the other side of his head. Maybe if he applied pressure from both sides…     "I'll yell if I feel like yelling, Majic. Dammit, you're just lucky that I noticed you were missing and guessed that you'd gone down to the lake. I should've just let you get sick-or drown, you know. You were already halfway in the damn lake!"     Oh, Orphen was really, really mad. Carefully Majic cracked open one eye, immediately closing it again. Forget thundercloud; it was more like erupting volcano.     "I'm sorry, Oshou-sama. I didn't mean-"     "I don't care what you meant! I'm your teacher, and if anyone or anything's going to kill you, it's going to be me. It's a teacher's prerogative!"     Something about that sounded terribly wrong to Majic, but at the same time, it sounded very right. He sighed, trying to ignore the _thud thud_ of the headache demons playing drums, daring to open his eyes and face his punishment. "I just couldn't stay here anymore, not with the way you and Otousan and Cleao-san have been the last few days. I just wanted some time to think…"     Orphen was scowling, eyebrows drawn into a near 'v' over his eyes; in that instant, Majic could understand how Cleao could think Orphen's eyes were evil looking. "Yeah? Well next time you want to think, _stop_ and think about what you're doing and what everyone else is going to think. Your oyaji thought I'd killed you!"     Recalling briefly the spell that had flashed over his head, Majic smiled ruefully. "Well…"     "If I kill you, everyone'll know it. I don't do half-assed jobs."     He bowed his head forward again, grateful that the thick blonde strands blocked out the light for a few moments. "I really am sorry, Oshou-sama. I didn't intend for whatever happened to happen."     It was then, looking up, that Majic had a sudden insight; Orphen wasn't just mad, he was scared. It wasn't obvious, really, but there were telltale signs: colour at the highpoints of his cheeks, the way he absently nibbled on his bottom lip, the way he clenched and unclenched his hands…the way he reached out and brushed Majic's hair through his fingers, tugging on strands briefly before realising what he was doing and yanking his hands back. His new master was such a puzzle.     "Thank you, Oshou-sama, for rescuing me."     Orphen turned away, facing the window. He was chewing on his lip again, tongue briefly darting out to wet it. "Do you remember what happened?"     Majic shook his head. "No, not really. I thought I remembered someone calling me to the lake edge, but that seems silly the more I think about it. I was probably hallucinating from being out in the cold too long. I'm sorry that you had to go through so much trouble for me…I'll try hard to make it up to you."     Snorting, Orphen waved his earnestness aside with a hand. "Get a little bit more sleep, kid. You should be all better by this afternoon. I'll check on you later."     Majic watched him leave, his stride stiff, posture tense and erect… Frowning in thought, Majic wondered what exactly had happened last night…wondered what he couldn't remember…     And, more than anything, he wondered why, exactly, Orphen cared so much. 

* * *

He simply couldn't explain it-and that was bothering him more than he cared to admit.  
    Majic had been watching Orphen all morning, and though there had been several times he'd tried to divert his attention with cleaning, running errands, or simply disappearing into his room, he found that he would end up returning to his lowered-eye perusal of the sorcerer without really meaning to.     Maybe it was because of the thought cycling through his head: Why had Orphen asked him to become the man's apprentice? Surely it would have been less of a hassle to simply not tell Majic of his heritage, or to just escort him to the Tower of Fangs. What could prompt a man so obviously desiring solitude to make such an offer, one that would infringe not only on his physical privacy, but on his emotional privacy as well?     And maybe it was because he was now more curious than ever. What experiences had moulded Orphen into the man he was? What hardships, what cruel twists of fate, what stumbles of fortune had led the man to Totokanta after a sword, chasing a woman-turned-dragon?     What had made him a man afraid of being close to people?     He knew they would be leaving. It was only a matter of hours, most likely, until Orphen would have his things together and would be setting out after the Bloody August. And though Orphen hadn't asked him, Majic knew that he would be going with the man. After all, he was Orphen's apprentice…and at the rate he was going, it would be quite awhile before the apprentice equalled the master, let alone surpassed him.     Though, if he was to be honest with himself, it was more than that. Totokanta held nothing for him, other than his father. There were no bad memories other than the death of his mother, but there weren't any particularly good memories either. He didn't have friends to leave behind, no significant other that would pine for him, no-one whose day would be duller for lack of his presence. And though Orphen presented an almost untouchable façade of 'touch-me-not,' Majic was almost certain it was just that: a façade.     What lay beneath?     He sighed, letting his broom fall into the corner of the storage closet. Since Orphen would be setting out the following morning, most likely, that meant he had one last task to do before he left his home.     To tell his father that he was going with the sorcerer and that he didn't know when he'd be back-if he'd _ever_ be back. 

* * *

It was the glass shattering to the hardwood floor that woke Orphen at first.  
    Eyes slits of mahogany in the moonlight, ears focused for a continuation of the sound, he relaxed after a moment when there were no further crashes and pulled the blankets back up around his neck, closing his eyes.     On the verge of sleep again, full wakefulness hit with the force of the thunderclap at the sound of his apprentice yelling at the top of his lungs.     "-not a child anymore. This is my decision to make!"     Sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Orphen was on his feet and at the door before completely realising that he'd moved. He paused, hand hovering over the knob, waiting to hear more.     "As long as you live under my roof, you'll abide by my rules, Majic. You're not going with him."     "Otousan, you're the one who entrusted him with my training. How will I ever learn to control my magic if you won't let me go with him?"     "We'll find a different way!"     Orphen smirked into the darkness. So the kid had finally shown his father that he had teeth. It was nice to know, also, that he'd already planned to follow Orphen when he left; there was no way, after the incident two nights ago, that he was leaving Majic in Totokanta when he was untrained.     However, it sounded like it was definitely his cue to step in.     Throwing open the door, he padded barefoot down the stairs to the inn's main room, where he found Bagup facing Majic with his arms crossed over his barrel chest, scowling at his son. Majic looked entirely unrepentant, fists clenched at his sides, eyes narrowed. With that expression, Orphen thought, he looked much older than his age.     "All right, what the hell's so important that you had to wake me up?"     Bagup turned his glare to Orphen. "My son thinks that he's going with you when you leave tomorrow."     Orphen shrugged. "Why not? He is my apprentice, after all."     "I won't allow it. After the other night, you of all people should know that he can't handle the kind of world that's out there."     Orphen narrowed his eyes. "Majic?"     "Yes, Oshou-sama?"     "I want you to go to bed, right now, all right? I'll take care of things with your father."     "But-"     "Now, Majic. You're going to need a good night's rest-we're leaving early."     Majic sighed, head bowing. "Yes, Oshou-sama. Good night." He trudged past Orphen, expression dejected. Orphen waited until he heard the boy's footsteps disappear up the stairs before pinning Bagup with a look that could kill.     "Bad move, oyaji."     "And what's that supposed to mean, black sorcerer?"     "It means that you just drove him to want to leave even more. You should know by now that the more you push, the more he resists. _I_ know that and I've only been here for ten months."     If anything, Bagup's scowl deepened. "What makes you think you have any right to speak to me like that, sorcerer? You've been here on my charity for the last ten months, and-"     "And I've appreciated it. However, if you'll put your parenting and prejudices aside for a moment, I have some news for you that might just change your mind."     "Quit nattering and get to the point."     "Your wife was there."     Silence fell between them, Bagup paling while Orphen's expression grew more and more irritated. "Yeah, that's right. Your precious Iris felt the pull of Majic's rudimentary Summoning and came. She tried to take him that night, tried to get him to finish the Summoning and join her."     "No…no, that's…" Bagup licked his lips, eyes darting around the shadowed corners of the room. "She would never endanger him!"     "Weren't you the one who told me she left because she couldn't trust herself anymore?"     "But that's-"     "No buts about it, oyaji. Majic not only needs to leave with me so that I can train him, he needs to leave so that she won't get him. As he is right now, he's not powerful enough to fight her should she decide to bewitch him."     "Why are you so adamant about taking my boy with you? I've seen you yell at him, thump him, berate him…why the hell do you _care_?"     Orphen winced inwardly, but he couldn't help but think that the man had seen a bit deeper than he should have. "Look… It's really not your business why I care, it should just be enough to know that I do, all right?"     Bagup gave him a feral smile. "I don't think so, black sorcerer. That's my only child you're talking about, and I think I deserve a straight answer."     Leaning against the wall, Orphen began to nibble on his lip, focus turned inward. After a moment, he began to speak. "You know, you have a very skewed view of the lives of those with sorceri blood. For hundreds of years the God's Followers persecuted us, and it's only been in the last decade that we've been able to come and go fairly freely, without being required to travel in groups for safety. I know you don't think very highly of me, and I know that the sorceri gift disgusts you-there's no need to hide it, since you're not very good at it.     "All sorcerers are different though. There were six different clans in the beginning, each with their own particular gift. By now, many of the gifts have become intermingled and somewhat diluted, but there are occasionally sorcerers with an undiluted strain, who had a parent that was almost pure Dragon. There is the theory, you know, that the Six Tribes still exist out there, somewhere…hiding in fear of persecution, of hatred."     "This is all very fascinating, but get to the point."     Orphen's scowl deepened, but he continued without a snapping comeback. "Sometimes there are certain…things…about another sorcerer that call to a person. Typically it's because they share similar bloodlines, similar powers. Majic is the first person I've ever felt that with in my entire life. Your son is the first person with the potential to rival or surpass me, with the ability to read me on pure accident, that I've ever met. Even my fellow classmates at the Tower of Fangs couldn't do to me what he can."     Bagup was silent for a moment, sorting through Orphen's words. "If I didn't know you better, sorcerer, I'd say you were in love with my son."     Orphen grinned, pushing away from the wall and tipping his head in a cocky manner. "No-one said I wasn't, oyaji." He turned, making his way towards the stairs.     "I'm not done with you yet, Orphen!"     "No, but I'm done with you. From now on, my only concern is with your son," Orphen called over his shoulder. He ignored the sounds of Bagup ranting behind him, smiling to himself as he reached the landing, entering his room and closing the door. Just let the man try and stop him from taking Majic with him… 

Next door, heart racing, eyes wide, mouth slack, Majic slid down the wall beside his door, burying his face in shaking hands. He hadn't meant to listen in on the conversation, but both his father and Orphen had seemed so upset!  
    But now…     With a whimper, he pressed his face more tightly into his hands, berating himself as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. Of all the things to overhear, of all the things to have said… Was his mother still alive, then? Had she been the hallucination that had tried to summon him through the water to his side, the beautiful vision of gold in the rain? And why had Orphen attacked her?     Why did Orphen care?     And then it sank in, his master's final words to his father.     _'…in love with my son.'     'No-one said I wasn't.'
_     But Orphen was twenty years old, while he, Majic, was only a little over fourteen. What did he know of love?     And yet…     Sniffling, he rose to his feet, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Orphen had said that they would be leaving early, and it was only a few hours until dawn. Things would look better after sleep, he decided, throwing himself down onto his bed.     Things would look better in the morning. 

* * *

The heavy pack rested somewhat awkwardly over his shoulders and across his back, but he refused to complain. After all, this was his choice, and there was nothing that would make him take it back. His father stood in the inn doorway, scowling at them both. Orphen was haggling with one of the street hawkers over something, hands flying like dangerous weapons, the hawker grimacing and eventually giving in to a ridiculously low price.  
    "Stubborn man," Orphen groused, tossing his prize in the air and catching it again. "Like he even knows what to do with it."     "With what, Oshou-sama?" asked Majic softly.     "This." Orphen handed him what appeared to be a flat, shiny pebble, silver on one side, and iridescent aqua on the other.     Majic's eyes were wide. "What is it?"     "Dragon scale. The only reason I knew it was there is because it's from a dragon of one of the tribe's I've got in me. You'll find that the objects of the Dragon Clans tend to call to their descendents."     Majic studied the scale, fingertips rubbing over the surface. He smiled when he felt it warm in his hand, a sense of familiarity and welcome seeping into his soul. "Oshou-sama…"     "Keep it," Orphen said gruffly, turning away. "Let's get going, kid."     Majic smiled, carefully pocketing the scale. He closed his eyes and adjusted the pack, setting off after his master.     "And, Majic?"     "Yes?"     "If you ever need me…call me."     Majic's smile grew. _Call me, call me._ "Oshou-sama?"     "What?"     "Would you do the same? Would you ask me for help if you ever needed it?"     "Sure." Then Orphen turned, giving him a sly, cocky look. "Of course, the day I'll need help is the day I'm dead, kid, so don't expect me to call you any time soon."     And then they were halfway down the road, Totokanta fading into the distance as they hurried to meet the man that would be providing them with a horse wagon for transportation. Majic didn't once look back; everything he needed was right in front of him. 


End file.
